


And to Think That I Saw It On Magnolia Crescent

by Ellynne



Series: Rumple's New Mirror [4]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellynne/pseuds/Ellynne
Summary: Rumple takes a walk in Little Whinging to meet up with Belle. It doesn't go as planned.





	And to Think That I Saw It On Magnolia Crescent

**Author's Note:**

> There's a prop I need to make this picture work which I'm working on. If it works, there will be a really cute picture to go with this story later on. If not, know that I tried! Really! I went down fighting with my crochet hook to the bitter end!

Rumplestiltskin was having a good day as he walked merrily down the sunny streets of Little Whinging to meet Belle, waving and offering a cheery hello to passersby (quite a few of them stopped to stare at him as he went by).  When some children playing football in the street accidentally kicked their ball towards him, he caught it and did a few modestly impressive tricks with it (only one or two involving fire), and tossed it back to them, all without wrinkling his cravat (or getting ashes on it).

A little later, he passed a boy looking down a storm drain.  “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” the boy said.

A voice from the storm drain replied, “I’m Pennywise, the Dancing Clown.  See? Now, we’re not strangers.  Would you like your boat back?” The little boy began to reach into the drain.

Rumplestiltskin gently pushed the boy aside. “Pennywise?” he said to the glaring creature below. “More like pound foolish.” He threw a fireball at him (shaped like a football because why not?), incinerating the boggart-clown out of existence. Then, with a wave of his hand, the paper boat the boy had lost dropped into his hands.  Rumplestiltskin cheerfully continued on his way.

He had the rest of the day all planned out.  He would meet up with Belle and they would have afternoon tea (because it would be boring to come all this way and have tea by himself), followed by a bit of sight-seeing (again, it was _boring_ to do that on his own. Besides, he could trust Belle to have already memorized the guide book) and shopping (he had marked all the bookstores on his map of London).  Then, on to see this _Phantom of the Opera_ show, whatever it was.  All Rumplestiltskin knew was that the tickets were very hard to get (or they had been before Rumplestiltskin made sure there was an extra box in the theatre that hadn’t been there when the tickets were first sold).  They would have a late night dinner after and talk about the day’s events (that was one of the other useful things about Belle.  He could count on her to appreciate how terribly clever he’d been).

He’d sent Belle to check on the baby.  Normally, that would have been Rumplestiltskin’s job.  In the Enchanted Forest, some might even call it his specialty (hardly the case; but, when it came to dealing for babies, a little went a long way).  But, boggart in the sewers or not, this was a quiet, safe neighborhood.  Belle would walk in, quietly wave a couple charms over the baby, and walk out.  It gave her something else to do while he chatted with serial killers. 

Of course, he’d also put a few protective spells on her along with paperwork and IDs clearly proving she was a simple, government worker making a routine visit before the Dursleys’ guardianship of their nephew was finalized (he loved large, faceless bureaucracies. They made everything so much simpler. A random stranger showing up in the Enchanted Forest and demanding to see a child who’d just survived an assassination attempt would never get past the front door).  Of course, just to be extra safe, he’d also sent her with Mr. Dove. 

Mr. Dove was better than a large, faceless bureaucracy.  People saw him and found they wanted to do whatever he told them. Or make a run for it. Either way, Belle ought to be quite safe. Not that he _cared_ , of course.  Not about Belle personally.  She was just the hired help.  But, she was _his_ hired help.  It wouldn’t look good to let anything happen to her.  Besides, why should he have to go through the trouble of finding a new maid when he already had a perfect—er, _perfectly . . ._ uhm, adequate one.  Yes, that was the word he wanted.  Belle was adequate.  Very, very adequate.  He would be hard pressed to find another maid as adequate as she was.

So, Rumple would meet up with Belle, she would tell him the baby was fine, and they would go explore London.  Mr. Dove, who had expressed a strong desire to spend the rest of the day feeding pigeons, would visit Trafalgar Square with a large supply of birdseed (the pigeons in London were an interesting breed. Nearly the size of chickens, they didn’t fly away when pedestrians approached, ignoring them or sizing them up with a cold look that said, _Oh, yeah, I can take you_ ).

Which didn’t mean he wanted to be _alone_ with Belle.  It was just that there was really no point in going to see a play with someone who could block out half a theatre and whose idea of a musical was tweet-tweet-tweet.

Whistling a Frontlands tune (which sounded oddly similar to _Scotland Forever_ ) Rumplestiltskin was just passing Magnolia Crescent when he heard the sirens.  Lots and lots of Sirens.

Then, he saw the smoke.  Lots and lots of smoke.  It was coming from the direction of Privet Drive.

That was when he saw Mr. Dove.  He was slightly singed and very bedraggled.  “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said.  He took the deep breath of a man about to launch into a very long, complicated story.  Then, he seemed to think better of it.  “Things got . . . a little out of hand.”

Belle came climbing over a fence at speed.  Leaves were in her hair and a small bundle was in her arms.  She had a look that reminded Rumplestiltskin that she came from a long line of warrior kings.

He looked at the bundle in her arms.  “Is that. . . ?”

“We can’t leave him, Rumple,” Belle said.

The sirens were getting louder.  “Sir?” Mr. Dove said. “They may have a good idea where we are.”

Belle ignored incoming law enforcement as unimportant.  Her eyes burned.  “They were being awful to him Rumple.  They had him in a cupboard.  With spiders.”

“Uh. . . .” Rumplestiltskin said.  He tried to think of an argument Belle would accept.  They had other things to do.  High tea.  And bookstores.  And box seats.

She glared, looking like a small army of one.  “You _can’t_ give him back to them,” Belle ordered as the police closed in.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if the clown Rumple saw was a boggart or not, but he's not coming back.
> 
> I understand Dove was supposed to have been a dove in the Enchanted Forest who was turned human in Storybrooke. I have no idea why he's human already, but Rumple wasn't going to let Belle face the dangers of Little Whinging alone and it's a little difficult to imagine Chip and Mrs. Potts at Privet Drive.
> 
> Rumple may never get to use his new mirror at this rate.


End file.
